Playing the Field
by inwonderland
Summary: It's the Euro 2004 football championship, and Harry's determind to watch every match, even if it does make him stressed. Draco will watch too, just because Harry asks... but only under certain conditions... that are of course in favour of him...


**_Playing the Field  
  
England VS France_**  
  
"Exactly who is playing?" Draco asked his lover, as the dark haired man settled down into the couch, the remote control in one hand and an open bottle of beer in the other. An open packet of cigarettes rested on the arm of the chair and an ashtray balanced precariously between his jean clad knees.  
  
"England and France. First game of their group," Harry told him informatively, his gaze not leaving the previews for the game.  
  
"And they're playing..."  
  
"Football," Harry sighed, "They kick that ball around and try and score in the goals at each end. They're playing for the European Cup."  
  
"Oh." Draco said flatly, and sat heavily on the couch, "Why do you care?"  
  
"Because I do," Harry said stubbornly, "When I was younger I used to love watching and playing football, but at Hogwarts, we were just all too busy. I want to start playing again, we can't play Quidditch here, and there are Muggles. And it's England!! Show our nationality!!" He waved a hand at his red shirt and added, "They need support!"  
  
"Why, are they crap?" Draco asked, seemingly innocent, but in truth he actually knew they weren't half-bad.  
  
Harry opened his mouth a couple of times in outrage, and spluttered, "No! They're great!"  
  
"Who won last time?" Draco asked, genuinely interested.  
  
Harry looked slightly uncomfortable, "Er... I dunno who won Euro 2000, but... France did win the World Cup in 2002."  
  
Draco smirked, "You know, I'm part French..." He let Harry draw his own conclusions.  
  
The dark haired mans eyes widened. "You're going to support France." It wasn't a question.  
  
Draco's smirk widened, "Maybe. Now, Harry, love, would you like to make a small wager?"  
  
Harry's emerald green irises almost disappeared as he narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, "What kind of wager?"  
  
"Our usual kind of wager." Draco grinned.  
  
Harry smiled predatorily, "Fine. But I'm not fucking you in a public place again. Or involving ritual animal slaughters, anyone else or... OK, I think I'm out of weird stuff you might be interested in."  
  
Draco smirked, "Nice to know you think I'm capable though. And don't tell me you didn't like shagging me at that concert. Or in the changing rooms, or ..."  
  
"OK, I did. But after we got caught, never again." Harry insisted, blushing slightly.  
  
"Fine," Draco sulked, "But today. If France win, I get to choose where and how. If England win, you get to choose. OK?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Fine. Now, shhhh... it's starting."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. Football was terribly boring in his opinion. He only watched it to make Harry happy. And to get laid of course. But he figured that that was a given. It was him and Harry after all.  
  
Twenty minutes of watching little men run across the screen Draco finally asked what he had been wanting to know since the beginning, "What colour are we?"  
  
Harry snorted, "You we, or me we?"  
  
Draco sighed, he honestly didn't care, "Harry..."  
  
"England are white, and you're the other ones," Harry answered, and he lit up a cigarette. Draco sighed at Harry. He never would have expected Harry to smoke. But when Harry was about 17 he decided he was fed up of people telling him what to do, and he started to smoke, and came out as bisexual. Draco didn't mind the smell of smoke, and he had to admit Harry looked very sexy with a cigarette between his fingers or lips.  
  
"... AND LAMPARD HEADS THE BALL, AND YES!! ENGLAND HAVE SCORED!!" came the announcers excited voice at 38 minutes, five or so minutes before half time.  
  
"Yeah!!" Harry cheered, and Draco just watched him. He thought Harry was terribly amusing when he was all excited and on edge.  
  
Through out the next fifty or so minutes, Harry bragged about their wining even if Owen had been taken off, Beckham was playing badly, ("How on earth did he miss that? Honestly, he needs to concentrate on football, not his bloody dick."), and that France, honestly had no chance and neither did Draco.  
  
Suddenly Harry came crashing down to earth as France's Zidane scored a free kick against England's goalie, James in the ninetieth minute, and then as the last three minutes of extra time passed excruciatingly slow, and Zidane scored again in a penalty.  
  
When Harry stopped yelling at the "Bloody pathetic goalkeeper and the biased referee," he sat heavily down on the couch, drained his third bottle of beer and lit another cigarette.  
  
"I win." Draco said in a slightly bragging voice.  
  
"So you fucking do," Harry said rather flatly, "You going to pick what you want then? You just better not be slow or teasing... I may have to kill you. Definitely not in the mood."  
  
Draco looked at Harry questioningly for a minute and took in his appearance. He looked ruffled, angry, and very sexy. There was no way Harry would even let Draco suggest his first choice of a nice, slow shag in the shower, so he went for the next best.  
  
"Oh really," Draco purred, moving closer to Harry, "And what if I want you to take me against that wall? What would you do then?"  
  
Harry said nothing, he just threw his cigarette butt in the ash tray on the table, and pulled Draco up, flush against his chest, "So that's what you want is it?"  
  
Draco grinned, "Yeah. You're irresistible when you're like this, love. All smouldering and angry, sooo unbelievably sexy."  
  
Harry said nothing, he roughly pressed his lips against Draco's, who responded in turn, and kissed his lover of many years back just as passionately and full of want as when they had first got together. He pulled Draco's head closer to him and walked them both to the bare wall opposite them.  
  
"This the wall you were thinking of?" Harry whispered into his ear.  
  
Draco looked around and nodded, "Yeah, this was pretty much it."  
  
"Good," Harry said, "You're wearing entirely too much clothing love." He kissed Draco again, and moved his hands to unzip Draco's trousers and roughly pulled them down.  
  
Draco pulled away from the mind blowing kiss, and said huskily, "And you are talking entirely too much."  
  
"Too true," Harry said and began to kiss down Draco's neck, and open the buttons on his shirt. Draco's skilful hands worked Harry's jeans down his tanned, toned thighs, followed by his boxers.  
  
"Love you," Harry gasped, as he pulled Draco's boxers down and threw them across the room over his shoulder.  
  
"You too," Draco said back, and he hoisted himself onto the windowsill. He pulled Harry towards himself and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Harry moaned at the contact of Draco's fingers lightly brushing over his chest and drew him into a passionate kiss.  
  
Harry wandlessly muttered a spell against the blonde's lips to prepare Draco, and pulled his legs around to straddle his waist.  
  
"Need anymore?" Harry asked, the green of his eyes nearly all but gone in arousal.  
  
"Fuck no, been ready since that whistle first blew," Draco insisted, "Just... please...hurry..." He gasped.  
  
"Of course," Harry said obligingly and he pulled Draco against himself and pushed them hard against the wall. Draco lowered himself onto Harry so Harry was fully enclosed by Draco's heat.  
  
"Harry... please...." Draco moaned his fingernails scratching at Harry's muscled back.  
  
Harry kissed his lover slowly as he roughly thrust and propelled them both to orgasm together.  
  
**-&-&-**  
  
"So who's playing next?" Draco asked Harry later on that night, as they cleaned each other up in the shower.  
  
"England and Switzerland." Harry answered, and dipped his hand low to clean the white gooey substance off Draco's stomach.  
  
"Yeah?" Draco said huskily, trying not to gasp as Harry's fingers ghosted over his skin.  
  
"16th of June," Harry answered, and moved his fingers to lightly clean his lover's thighs.  
  
"Harry..." Draco moaned. It looked like he was going to get his first choice after all...  
  
**_England VS Switzerland_**  
  
Harry and Draco sat down with Ron and Hermione for the next game. This annoyed Draco greatly, seen as they weren't even at their home, so there was no chance of a repeat performance of last time, and they hadn't even had a chance to bet yet.  
  
"Harry," Draco whined, "We need to set our little bet."  
  
"What bet?" Ron asked, "Can I join in? Might make this crap game a bit better." Ron had pretty much the same opinion as Draco on football. He really didn't see the appeal of 22 men kicking a ball around a pitch. Nothing flew and there was only one ball. How boring was that?  
  
"Sorry Weasley, that's one of our rules," Draco said wickedly.  
  
Harry scowled and said apologetically, "Sssh. Sorry Ron."  
  
"What the hell? Tell me." Ron commanded.  
  
Draco looked at Harry pleadingly who smirked and shrugged.  
  
"Cheers babe," Draco smirked at Harry, who just smiled at Hermione, who Harry had told bout their wagers before, "You see Weasley, me and your innocent little Boy Wonder here, make little bets. About sex. Where, when and how. If England win, he chooses, if the other team win, I get to choose. Unfortunately, one of Harry's rules is no threesomes... but I'm sure I can get him to agree. Would you still like to join in Weasley."  
  
Ron turned slightly green and shuddered, then yelled at Harry, "Why did you let him tell me?"  
  
Harry shrugged, "You insisted. I tried to stop him... but you insisted. What you gonna do?"  
  
Ron scowled and sat down. He threw a look at Hermione, "Did you know about this."  
  
"Yeah. So? It doesn't bother me what kinky shit they get up to." Hermione told Ron truthfully.  
  
Ron spluttered, "Hermione!!" As Harry and Draco laughed hysterically at his shocked expression.  
  
"All right stop teasing him. It's about to start, and Harry bloody well put that out. I don't care if you want to die of smoking, but I don't." Hermione scolded. Harry shrugged at her, blew a cloud of smoke at her, but stubbed it out in an ashtray.  
  
"How can you let him do that?" Hermione scolded Draco, who rested his head on Harry's shoulder.  
  
He sighed, "It's his life. I don't mind the smell really, and we're wizards Granger, there are spells and shit to cure cancers and that."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, but still, it's the principle of it..."  
  
"I don't have any of them," Harry told her, "Now, shhh, I want to watch this."  
  
"You just don't want to be shagging him in the changing rooms again," Hermione snorted. Ron opened his mouth in surprise, and Harry just laughed at them. The two of them weren't together; they hadn't been for years. Ron was single, and Hermione was engaged to someone no one had expected. Harry honestly didn't know where he was at the minute, but suspected he'd be there soon. Hermione honestly was quite dirty minded; Harry had known that one day all that reading would come in handy. Even if it was just to get one up on Ron.  
  
"AND WAYNE ROONEY HAS SCORED FOR ENGLAND TWENTY THREE MINUTES INTO THE FIRST HALF!! WHAT A MAGNIFICENT PLAYER THIS LAD IS, ONLY 18 YEARS OLD..." the announcer yelled.  
  
Harry and Hermione jumped up and cheered at the screen, while Draco was roughly pushed from his comfortable position, and Ron looked up from a game of chess he was playing against himself. Football really was very boring when you had no clue what was happening.  
  
"So, we're winning?" Draco asked at half time, "Is that good?"  
  
"Of course it is," Harry said, looking slightly outraged, "We need to win these two games or we're out the whole bloody thing... sodding France." Harry was still a bit bitter about the referee on the France game.  
  
"Harry..." Draco sighed. He really didn't know what to say to him.  
  
Harry grinned at Draco, who smiled hesitantly back. He leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, "You know, I really do appreciate you watching this with me, even if you do find it as boring as hell."  
  
Draco smiled wider and said, "Babe, if it makes you happy, I'll do it."  
  
"Me too," Harry admitted, but added, "Except for sex in public."  
  
Draco chuckled, and Harry decided that he just looked so adorable that he had to kiss him again. He caught Draco's lips in a light teasing kiss, the quickly separated, kissing him quickly on the cheek, and settling back to watch the second half. He really didn't want to get himself too worked up. It wasn't even his house.  
  
The whistle blew for the second half to begin, and ten minutes in found Harry yelling, "Send him off! That was a foul if I've never seen one..."  
  
"AND HAAS HAS BEEN SENT OFF. PLAY WILL RESUME IN..."  
  
Harry snorted, "Good fucking job. Drake did you see that..."  
  
"See what Harry?" Draco asked.  
  
"That, it was such a foul. Daft bastard, honestly, he deserved that." Harry scolded the footballer that was yelling at the referee. He stopped and walked quickly off.  
  
"YEAH!!" Harry and Hermione yelled as Rooney scored his second goal of the match.  
  
"Did we do good?" Ron asked. Harry scowled at him, but nodded. Harry wandered through to the kitchen and picked up a beer. He grabbed a bottle opener and pulled the cap off the beer. There was suddenly a loud groan from the living room and a sharp, "Ron!!"  
  
Harry wandered back through and saw Hermione in an embrace with her dark haired fiancé. They let each other go and he looked around at the people in his home.  
  
"Potter. Weasley. Draco."  
  
"Snape." Harry said as amicably as possible. He really didn't like this man. He honestly tried his very hardest to get along with him, but he was the most difficult and stubborn man Harry had ever met. Except maybe Draco.  
  
"And what pray tell are you four doing?" Snape asked. Harry just rolled his eyes and sat back down on the couch and gave Draco the bottle to hold. He took a sip and watched as Harry lit a cigarette.  
  
"We're watching football. Honestly Harry, how many do you smoke a day?" Hermione asked.  
  
"About 10. More when I watch football, I get stressed."  
  
"Then why do you watch it?" Snape asked.  
  
"Want to," Harry answered, "It's... exciting. It's stressful and very tense. S'good."  
  
"Hmm..." Snape said, "I'll be in the study Hermione."  
  
Hermione nodded, "OK. I'll come down soon, this is nearly... YES!!"  
  
Gerrard scored making the score 3 – 0. Snape jumped slightly and looked at Hermione strangely, raising an eyebrow. Hermione blushed and Snape rolled his eyes and walked out the room. Harry and Ron shot each other significant looks and Draco hit Harry, it was his Godfather they were taking the piss out of here.  
  
"Only 8 minutes left!!" Harry sang, he was only a little bit drunk, "We're going to win. I'm going to fuck..."  
  
"Harry!" Draco scolded, blushing slightly.  
  
"Sorry... but we know it's true. They know it's true. I honestly don't see a problem with me telling what I'm going to do..." Harry said.  
  
"Yes, Harry," Draco said, "To be honest I don't think Granger minds, but I think Weasley may have a heart attack if you say anymore. OK?"  
  
Harry nodded happily, "OK, Draco. But I am going to fuck you. I get to choose remember?"  
  
Draco groaned. Hermione laughed. Ron almost fainted. Harry cheered along, completely oblivious, as the final whistle blew, making the score 3 – 0 to England. And Harry did get what he predicted. Once they got home anyway. Doing that in someone else's house was just rude.  
  
**_England VS Croatia_**  
  
"OK, so you won again," Draco said as Harry cheered along with the crowd when England won. They had been playing Croatia, and Harry had been devastated when Kovak scored for Croatia 6 minutes in. They hadn't equalised for another 35 minutes, and then another 5 minutes later Rooney scored his third goal of the tournament. Harry had decided, along with most of England that Rooney was an 18 year old football God, being their highest scorer of the tournament, and youngest at that. When Rooney scored again was the icing on the cake, although Tudor scoring for Croatia made the taste slightly bitter. However in the seventy-ninth minute Lampard scored, bringing their lead up, and securing their victory.  
  
"Hell yeah!" Harry said happily, "We're in the semi-finals, then the quarter finals, then the finals! We actually have a chance at winning!"  
  
Draco smiled at his exuberant lover, "Go you?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Yeah, go us!"  
  
Chucking, Draco said, "So about our bet..."  
  
Harry turned to look slyly at Draco, "Your choice was very surprising this time, Drake." Harry had let Draco bet on England winning with an even number of goals. Harry had bet on the odd number of goals, and lost. Sort of.  
  
"Well, I am very surprising," he said seductively.  
  
Harry grinned, "So very true. So would you like to get started?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Harry smiled and moved over to Draco. He easily slipped over Draco to straddle his legs on the couch. He lowered his mouth to Draco's soft pick lips, his eyes never leaving Draco's intense gaze, that was already glazed over in lust.  
  
The two men sat joined in an intense, slow, passionate kiss that left them both breathless. Harry smiled sweetly at the blonde and began to kiss down his jaw and neck. He wasted no time in divesting them both of their shirts, laying them both on the floor. Harry grinned saucily at Draco and climbed off his knee slowly, making Draco groan at the friction between their crotches.  
  
Harry looked up at Draco from between his thighs, having already reduced the man to short, sharp breaths, "Ready?"  
  
Draco nodded breathlessly, and braced his hands on the side of the couch. Unzipping the zip on Draco's trousers agonisingly slowly, he took his trousers off.  
  
"Oh!" Harry said, surprised, "No boxers. You're such a slut..."  
  
"Only for you..." Draco said huskily. Harry grinned at him and nodded, then lowered his head to gently suck and tease Draco to orgasm.  
  
**_England VS Portugal_**  
  
"Semi finals?" Draco asked.  
  
"Yup. Portugal are the hosts this year, so we're gonna get bollocked if we beat them in their country and bollocked if we lose. It's going to be a hard match." Harry told Draco. He knew Draco really didn't care, but was happy that he was at least making an effort.  
  
"Wow," Draco said dryly, "Is that Rooney man playing? He was quite good."  
  
"Quite good? He's fucking fantastic!" Harry insisted, "He's gonna win this for us!!"  
  
"OK," Draco agreed, "Do you want a beer?"  
  
"Yeah please. Just hurry up, it's starting in a minute, and you don't want to miss the start!" Harry said vehemently.  
  
"God no!" Draco said, slightly sarcastically.  
  
He walked to the door to the kitchen and watched Harry light a cigarette, his fifth today already. He sighed, knowing he would never stop or give up and went into the kitchen.  
  
"YEAH!!" Draco heard six minutes later. He frowned and walked into the living room, two open bottles in his hands.  
  
"Owen scored!" Harry said happily, "You missed it though. Not a bad goal watch," He pulled Draco down to watch the playbacks of the goal and gulped down his beer.  
  
When half time came around Harry was a nervous wreck and had smoked 4 cigarettes. Rooney had been pulled off with a twisted ankle 27 minutes in, and England were playing badly. They had managed to prevent Portugal scoring again, but hadn't scored again. Gerrard had been booked, the first of the game, and Beckham had missed (another) free kick.  
  
"All right Harry?" Draco asked sympathetically. Even he could tell that this was not going fantastically for England.  
  
"Are you even watching this?" Harry said, almost crying, "It's a complete disaster. We're going down."  
  
"Are you always this upbeat about England's sporting achievements Harry?" Draco asked wryly.  
  
Harry nodded sadly, "Yes. We're going to lose the rugby and the cricket, Tim Henman isn't going to win Wimbledon again, bless him. The English are pants at everything except sodding curling."  
  
Draco smiled at Harry sadly, "Oh bless you. Now give me your cigarettes, you've smoked too many. And from what I can see, it's going to unfortunately get worse. Now give."  
  
Harry scowled, "No. Mine." He picked his cigarettes up and waved them at Draco before putting them down his trousers.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'And you think that's going to stop me?'. He swiftly moved nearer to Harry, thanked God Harry was wearing baggy jeans, and snatched the packet from Harry's trousers, not forgetting to rub his hand there before pulling his hand out.  
  
Harry growled at Draco, but let it go as he carefully watched Draco put the packet in his pocket. He would attack later. England couldn't really get much worse could they? He could survive the tension without cigarettes.  
  
A quarter of an hour later found Draco pinned beneath Harry on the floor, Harry sitting on top of his lover, lighting a cigarette and putting it between his lips. He let out a tension filled sigh and frowned at Draco.  
  
"Never. Take. My. Cigarettes," he said mock sternly, before climbing off Draco and offering him a hand. Draco rolled his eyes and took Harry's hand, and the two sat back onto the couch, ready to watch the next half an hour in smoke filled silence.  
  
Beckham having lost a couple more shots, was having every name under the sun yelled at him by Harry. Beckham had been Harry's favourite player before the tournament. He'd been Britain's favourite, but now, most of them were against him. But who could blame the bloke, Draco thought, he's a good player, but he's under pressure. Those bloody tabloids don't help. Harry should have known that.  
  
Suddenly as Harry was certain that Portugal had lost and England wouldn't allow Portugal to score, seven minutes before the end, Postiga scored from across the box, and levelled the score, making it 1 – 1.  
  
From then on, Harry really knew they were doomed. The 'Silver Goal' was announced, where if England or Portugal scored in the next 15 minutes they won. If no one scored or both did, there was another 15 minutes. If they were still level, they would take penalties. From the moment they stepped on the pitch again, it was obvious they were knackered. During the tense 15 minutes of the first half Harry smoked 3 cigarettes. Draco could see his point, he honestly didn't see why Harry watched it so much. It was too much too bear.  
  
At 110 minutes in, Draco was convinced Harry (and the rest of England) were going to cry. Rui Costa scored across to the right corner, leaving David James, the goalie powerless. A goal by Cole was disallowed, leaving Harry yelling for five minutes non-stop. But his hopes were lifted as Lampard scored in the one hundredth and fifteenth minute, levelling the score, and leaving the two teams to play out penalties.  
  
"Beckham you daft pillock, how did you miss that?!" (Beckham)  
  
"Crap."  
  
"Thank God, you've played bad 'til now, but at least you didn't miss like him." (Owen)  
  
"Crap."  
  
"Yes!! 2 for Lampard!!" (Lampard)  
  
"Yes, save that football James!!"  
  
"Wooh, go Terry!!" (Terry)  
  
"Ronaldo, you suck."  
  
"Yeah!!" (Hargreaves)  
  
"Bloody Portugal..."  
  
"Thank God..." (Cole)  
  
"Oh fucking hell..."  
  
"Oh we're doomed... but at least he didn't miss it. Not a bad save..." (Vassell)  
  
"Why is that daft goalie taking it? He can't do that... no. He scored... we're out... I think I'm going to cry..."  
  
The game ended with Portugal winning on penalties, 6 – 5. Harry sat heavily, having jumped up when cheering, and just looked blankly at the television. Draco didn't really know what to do. Should he say something? What could he say to make Harry feel better? There really wasn't much he could say. He felt rather strange, not knowing what to say to comfort his lover, "Harry..."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"OK, so they lost, but they shouldn't have. They played really well... look at them, bless. They're really upset... are you OK?" Draco asked sympathetically.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"OK." Draco said quietly and they sat for a minute, before suggesting the only thing that would make Harry better at this moment in time... "Want to shag?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
_A-N: --We always blame the referee cough Portugal cough or the shitty field cough Portugal cough if we lose. It's just how we are. We lose, blame the ref, then beat up our opponents. Not nice, but unfortunately true. He he. Oh and Portugal went on to play in the final, but lost to Greece. Oh and smoking is bad. Very, very bad. Don't do it. Harry is bad. Draco doesn't like it. But he puts up with it 'cos he loves Harry!! Bless. But don't do it. Oh. These aren't my views on the other teams, they were all great, but these are just Harry's views. And most of England's... who said that? Sorry. Mean no offence. Dunno what the point of this was but... review? Please...--_


End file.
